Sip and B🍷tch.

Sept. 9, 2017

Welcome to my newest blog series where I drink various wines, beers and or other cocktails and rant about whatever is getting me riled up at the moment. Each week I’ll take on a topic, event, person, etc. and give my thoughts and enjoy a new adult beverage so I have something to blame the strong opinions on.

I’d like to thank my dear friend Allie for inspiring this idea and for telling me that I “have a lot of opinions and when you are mad about something you express it in a funny way so it isn’t annoying.” Thank you, Allie P. That is quite possibly the best compliment I have ever received. I will try to live up to your expectations and remain entertaining, the pressure is on.

Another important person who inspired this blog and deserves ALL the props in the world is the one and only, Matt Bellassai. The hilariously honest and in my opinion, accurate writer who hosted his own weekly “Whine About It” show on BuzzFeed’s YouTube channel. Watch one of his videos, The Most Annoying Types Of Couples for some light, Sunday entertainment. Not only is he 100% right about the couples he is “@-ing” in this video (p.s. if that is you, please stop-for all of us.) but I love how conversational he is, I just know we would be great friends. If you’re ever in Mid-Mo. hit me up, señor Bellassai!!!

Next week, I will begin my own series of opinionated videos with a white peach sangria that I have been dying to make. I am very excited to have this excuse to try wines fancier than Franzia and beer that isn’t a Natty Lite and complain about all the things in this world that don’t make sense to me.

Adios for now, my loyal fans.

xoxo.

Self-Checkout: Just Another Empty Promise.

Sept. 16, 2017

I’m walking around Walmart making one too many laps, trying not to be obvious that I don’t know where anything is by myself. And officially I can’t stop to ask anyone because then they will see that I did in fact come to Walmart on a Saturday night to buy a bottle of cheap wine, Lays Kettle Cooked Chips, a Lean Cuisine and a box of tampons.

I finally have everything I came for and I’m ready to make my quick exit so I can get back to my perfectly lifted bed and Netflix opened to “Pride and Prejudice” that are waiting for me. I think to myself, “Sharp right, self-checkout! In-and-out, no interruptions.” Now, if my life were a T.V. comedy and a narrator with a smooth, sultry voice was giving a play-by-by of my day, it would be at this point that said voice would say, “Ah, but alas, she was so very, very wrong”.

Self-checkout in theory is a mind-blowing invention that teases you with convenience. But in reality it is just as time-consuming and annoying, if not more, than regular checkout lines. First, because everyone is so obsessed with self-checkout, there are lines just to get a station! Then, you get a pop-up on the screen every second because you didn’t but the item in the bag right away or you didn’t want to bag the item. And god forbid you pick an item that doesn’t have a barcode and you either have to look it up or wait for an attendant to come over and put in a “special” code for you. This also reigns true for coupons. WHY DO I HAVE TO HAVE AN ATTENDANT CONFIRM MY COUPON?! Is the barcode on it not enough? You also have to “wait for an attendant” to come check your ID if you want to buy alcohol which also defeats the quick and easy purpose.

Lastly, if you are like me and prone to disaster, then there is always a glitch in the system and the light above the station turns red or starts to flash and you have to sit there and do what the pop-up says and wait for an attendant all while trying to remain cool and collected but really internally you’re like: “omg why does this always happen to me”. ya, same.

So in the end, even though you went in with the expectations of not making even the slightest eye contact with another human being on the trip, you leave the store interacting with an attendant just as much as you would have if you waited in the normal line. And as an added bonus you are now worn out from cursing technology under your breath the whole time.

I’ll leave with this: if any of this resonated with you, then help me in trying to save the jobs of all the 16 year-olds out there who are just trying to make a little money to buy gas or movie tickets for their date on Friday or whatever it is that 16 year-olds do these days. Save yourself the stress and just use the regular checkout line.

This week, I made a White Peach Strawberry Sangria that I have been wanting to try for seriously a year. I figured this was the best reason I will ever get. The recipe is from allrecipes.com!

More Un-realistic Expectations for Women.

Sept. 23, 2017

While mindlessly checking Facebook yesterday I was stopped mid-scroll by some posts that literally made me gasp and immediately question what was wrong with humanity.

Apparently in the beauty industry these days, a few new “trends” have emerged. It’s hard for me to call them trends because I refuse to believe anyone willingly goes out into public like this but I’ll let you be the judge for your self…

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When did it become “cool” to look like a real life Bratz doll but like 10x worst?! I was just starting to get on board with filling in my eyebrows because of the new obsession over a thick brow and now, I am suppose to paint on braids or squiggles..? I think not.

I am normally not one to care about the opinions of others when it comes to my own fashion and beauty choices so I fully understand that if someone truly wants to try these styles, my New Glarus Spotted Cow induced rant is not going to stop them. And on some level, I can respect that. But on another, I have to beg to all those men and women out there wondering if this look could work for them, please don’t try this at home. Or if I have failed to convinced you in the slightest that this is cray cray and you really think you need to try this, maybe keep it tucked away until Halloween or a costume party. The beauty industry is full of unrealistic expectations about what women should look like and you know what, we don’t need to add to that list. As for me, I will keep my bushy eyebrows unbraided and my unevenly larger lower-lip just the way it is, thank you very much.

Sorry I Want to Have a High Quality of Life.

Sept. 30, 2017

This weekend I worked four shifts (Why did I agree to a double on a Saturday? IDK I guess I hate myself) totaling in 35 hours spent at everyone’s favorite rooftop bar in CoMo (Columbia, Missouri, you uncultured swine). Spending this much time in one place gave me plenty to complain about and lucky for all of you, you get to hear about it! Now, before you roll your eyes and think “not another server complaining about how hard the restaurant industry is” let me stop you right there. The restaurant industry is hard. Serving other people is not glamorous. And when I say you can’t even imagine the amount of gross, left over food and dressings that get spilt all over me, I am not joking.

My cute friends who came to visit me one time but then realized they cannot afford drinks at my place of employment.

But I wont bore you with all of those rants; instead I will entertain you with one specific complaint that has manifested in my heart after six years in the industry. *Side note: I just had a mid-mid life crisis (?) because I am actually old enough to have had shitty part-time jobs for that long. I feel like I should be sitting on a rocker on my front porch as a small child looks up at me with admiration. But that is also beside the point. Anyway…

First- never in my life have I felt punished for not smoking…except when working in the food industry. I have worked at four different restaurants since getting my first job at the Hastings Green Mill when I was 15. And at every single one of these establishments I was one of a handful of people who didn’t smoke. When you are a server, you are expected to be around and available to your tables at all times and I truly get that. But everyone needs a break every now and then. This is good for me as a functioning human but also for my tables because on a busy night I am close to snapping like 99% of the time, but I am not allowed to. I must keep everything together. And yet, one group of people is allowed to step outside, into the fresh air and see the light of day. And these people are the smokers. It seems like every time I am trying to find a fellow server (and tbh not to be rude but managers as well) the answer is “They are on a smoke break”, one manager of mine even called it “checking the weather” don’t be cute with me, I am pissed you get to have upwards of four, fifteen minute breaks in one shift while I get yelled at for sitting down and checking my phone for a few minutes when my tables don’t need anything!! This is all to say that I think it is no bueno that even though I have decided to not rot my lungs and eventually kill myself with those sticks of evil that I am still the one who loses in this scenario. But, I digress because I know that the restaurant industry and smoking are like peanut butter and jelly, they just go together. Statistically I will live 10 years longer so I guess in the end I win.

While I am on a roll, let me leave with another thought. If you tell your server he or she was “amazing” and/or “doing such a good job” your tip better reflect that. I’ll say it louder for the people in the back: I DON’T WANT YOUR KIND WORDS IF YOU AREN’T EVEN GOING TO TIP ME 20%. Or more, lets be honest. That being said I do love compliments so both are greatly appreciated, but only together. Sorry, a girls gotta pay rent.

Also–look at this. You get to color-in the label yourself and the bottle comes with three colored pencils! Plus, the sweet red wine is delicious. Genius.

We All Scream for Ice Cream.

Oct. 7, 2017

After an hour of slaving away at skit practice, all I wanted in that moment was a hot fudge sundae and some greasy McDonalds fries so naturally, I made my friend drive us. As we pulled up to the drive-through I could taste the salty sweet heaven that comes from dipping a hot fry into the cold soft serve. Sadly, on that dark Monday night I never got the chance to experience such euphoria.

Why, you ask? Because the ice cream machine was “under maintenance”.

If you don’t frequent McDonalds regularly, this probably seems like a normal, unavoidable road block. After all, machines needs fixing from time to time. But this isn’t just sometimes at night, I swear to you, it is all the time! The beloved soft serve machine is down 99.9% of the time I want a late night salty/sweet snack and I am sick of it. THIS is why I have trust issues. Think I am being dramatic? Well let me prove to you that I am not alone.

In case you didn’t realize, all of these tweets are from the last four days. I am telling you this is an issue people!! McDonalds, your ice cream machine literally has one job, to produce ice cream. How can it be so universally hard to complete this task?! I am trying to give MacDons the benefit of the doubt right now because some of the tweets I didn’t show you imply that the machine is in fact, not broken but the workers are just “too lazy” to want to operate it at night. I choose to not believe this because it would look very bad on the company if this were to be true. All I know is that McDonalds is a $129.28 billion company and they can afford to buy more efficient, reliable machines os that when I do want to dip my fry in a soft serve hot fudge sundae once every other month, I can do so.

Apple Cider Mule for the Win

4 oz. Hard Apple Cider

1.5 oz. Citrus Vodka

4 oz. Ginger Beer

Squeeze of lime juice

Dash of cinnimon

100% delicious.

This weekend was my last Hayride social of my collegiate career and I decided to commemorate the occasion by rewarding myself by making a real, actually enjoyable cocktail rather than just drink basically the equivalent of rubbing alcohol.

Here is what this delicious beverage would look like if I had the proper cup and garnished for it but alas, all I own is plastic red solo cups and lime juice in a bottle. Recipe from JoyfulHealthyEats.com

Me Too.

Oct. 14, 2017

I have decided to take a more serious tone with this post and rather than write another sarcastic roast about who knows what, I want to address a very important topic and the responses I have seen to it.

Earlier this week as I was scrolling through Facebook, I saw a post by a classmate form high school that said “me too”. That’s it. At first I thought that she accidentally posted a comment that was meant for a post or a picture. I chuckled to myself and thought, she probably doesn’t even know this happened…she’s gonna log back on later tonight and shake her head at the fact that she posted a status because lets be honest, no one has done that since their last birthday to thank everyone for their kinds words posted to their wall.

But then I kept scrolling. And I saw more “me too” posts and these posts had a lot of likes and comments saying “thank you for sharing”, “you are important”, “you are loved”. What was this all about? It seemed like everyone on my timeline knew what this meant besides me. Finally, I found a post that had further description and to say I was shocked would be an understatement.

I was overwhelmed. I realized that all the posts I saw were people connected to my life that have been sexually abused or harassed. These are my friends, family members and colleagues. Women who I look up to and love and they were publically sharing a deeply personal experience. It made me stop and think about my own experiences and I too have dealt with many similar situations as my brave friends.

As many of us know, in today’s culture acts of bravery are often met with opposition and criticism. The “me too” campaign is no exception. I even had a different initial gut reaction. Survivors shouldn’t feel pressured to share such intimate and difficult details about their personal life. For many survivors, this is not the proper platform for them to share their experience and I thought that was an important point to make. Finally, I saw someone with a large platform say what I was thinking.

I also read lots and lots of comments and threads that included negative comments form both men and women with the classic arguments of “what was she wearing” or “maybe she shouldn’t have been so drunk or in xyz place” and you know what? I am not even going to validate those points by including them in my post. It is time to stop slut shaming or victim blaming women AND MEN (yes I fully recognize that sexual assault and harassment happens to males too and I am saying their experiences are just as valid) but rather, it is time to do something about. We need to make our communities safer and make it clear that these behaviors will not be tolerated. And it is on all of us to do this.

For Once, I am Speechless.

Oct. 21, 2017

It took me awhile to start this post and to get to the point-it’s because I could not think of one single thing to b*tch about this week. This has never, in the history of my long and prosperous life, ever happened to me. I ALWAYS have something to say. But this week, I racked my brain everyday trying to think about what was annoying me and my mind was as bleak as my future–which is what I should be thinking about everyday because like so many people like to remind me lately, I have to get a real job in the *becoming increasingly more near* future. But instead of looking at LinkedIn postings or reaching out to connections I made at my internship this summer, I am sitting in the Futures Lab at the Missouri School of Journalism typing vigorously away out into the deep void of the Internet. Some would call this procrastinating; I would say it’s more living in the moment. I want to cherish my last year in college and I will be that girl who is pushing her friends to get $1 burgers at Big12 because we only have 23 more Sundays to go!! Back to my point, the demand of constantly ranting about something has in fact, given me creative writers block and I guess you could say that is my topic of conversation for tonight.

School is hard. College is not always fun. Life is not like your favorite Netflix show. You’ve heard all these clichés before and sadly I am here to reinforce them. This past month has been exhausting between trying to juggle school, work and outside activities and commitments. Fall is always an insane season because Mizzou decided it needed to be extra with Homecoming (who am I kidding, I love it. We invented the tradition 106 years ago, btw. Look it up) and students dedicate two months of their lives to pomping boards for decorations and planning service events. I spent my time writing, casting and directing a skit filled with 18-year-old pledges and I firmly believe herding cats would be easier. On top of my very important Hoco skit director duties, I still had 15 hours of class and homework (although I would be lying if I said it always got done) and a part-time job to maintain. My mom came for the weekend and she could not believe the amount of work we did. She actually said to me “How do you have time for anything else during this?!” That is a fabulous question, mother. This first half of the semester has been a blur and now that the dust has finally settled I have realized that I need to take a minute and re-focus and re-prioritize my life. As important as thinking about my future is, it’s also important that I practice self-care so that I am physically and emotionally happy. I don’t think this sentiment is voiced as much as it should be. There is so much pressure on college students and young adults to be hyper involved and successful in everything they do…success is not a bad thing, but letting that rule your life is. I know actions speak louder than words and I know it will be tough for me to loosen the reins a bit but I also know that in the end, it’s the best thing I could do for myself and sometimes being selfish is a good thing.

SOMEONE HIRE ME PLZ.

Oct. 28, 2017

They tell you college is hard. They tell you the working world is hard. But what they fail to mention is that getting from college to the working world might just be the hardest thing to tackle, for more reasons than one. Who is the “they” you ask? The preverbal “they” that’s who. The “they” who sit on their thrones and from their high and mighty places tell you that you need to do x, y and z to get a job or that you should be constantly worrying about your LinkedIn, personal portfolio or updating your resume. The “they” they make you second guess whether or not you just wasted the last three and a half years of your life on a useless degree because when they talk about the skills you should have or the requirements of the job you realize you do not stack up. That’s who.

The first reason searching for a job is the absolute worst is because you are forced to answer every young adults least favorite question: what do I want to do when I grow up? (Or at least, for my first year or so out of college). My answer is, I DON’T KNOW MR./MRS. RECRUITER, GET OFF MY BACK. However, every job search engine requires you to fill out a position title so I’ve spend many hours contemplating just what it is I can do after four years at the world’s journalism school.

Secondly, job searching encourages a very toxic atmosphere amongst friends where whether you try to or not, everyone ends up comparing what they are applying and interviewing for with what others around them are pursuing. The comparison game is a slippery slope at any time but putting the added pressure of full time offers and grad/law school on the table and now I don’t want to go on Facebook because I might see another *not so* humble brag about whatever great opportunity someone has and then have my day be ruined. I don’t want to seem like I am not supportive of my friends and their endeavors because I truly am so impressed and inspired by the people in my life. Right now, it’s just hard to keep perspective when everyone feels the pressure to score a killer job in the next couple of months.

Lastly, and for me this the biggest reason job hunting has sucked the joy out of my life, it consistently reminds me that I am going to have to leave the place that has become my home over these past four years and the people who have given me my favorite memories. I know we are all going to leave Mizzou and conquer the world but I can’t help but wish we would be moving somewhere together so we could live in the same building like we did Freshman year (Hatch Hall forever, RIP </3). While my best friend and I are trying to move across the pond together so that makes me less of an emotional wreck because I truly can’t imagine going more than a week without seeing her at this point. Think I’m joking? When we studied abroad in different countries, we travelled to seven cities together. The longest we were apart was the first three weeks of semester. To answer your next question; yes, we are filing for our common law marriage licensee.

It’s only November and I’ve already drunkenly cried at Piano about not seeing my best friends every day in six months so I’m doing great. Really, I’m fine. But seriously if you know of any company that needs a Digital Media Specialist or a Content Manager holla @ yo gurl.

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When Did I Become so Old and Irrelevant?

Nov. 4, 2017

Whilst sitting in a booth on a Monday night enjoying a $1 Bud Select and watching the Packers at everyone’s favorite sh*t hole affectionately known (by those of us who are actually 21) Big12, my friends and I were confronted by a scary reality; we are so not cool. Not only are we not hip and in-touch with the times, we also some how I manage to look younger than people who are two, three years younger than us. Freshman boys are getting into piano and 18 year-old girls look like the walked straight off the runway at a Teen Vogue fall preview show and into English 1000. It’s like some hideous trick of fate!

These girls were in bell-bottom jeans, a red corduroy button down or a cutout crop top and Adidas topped off with the largest hoop earrings have ever seen. Oh, and one had a septum piercing. While my mom will be happy to know that her lifelong belief that when it comes to fashion “what goes around comes around” is very true, I am not a fan of this quasi “winter darty casual” attire at bars that looks super effortless and cool but actually takes HOURS to perfect. I, on the other hand, was rocking an oversized sweatshirt and Nike leggings. In my day, literally putting in zero effort actually was cool. Now, you have to still put in the work to get ready while balancing that with a persona that you really didn’t care and just showed up in whatever you found on your bedroom floor ten minutes before. Sounds exhausting.

At this point in the night, my friends and are hard-core analyzing these girls. Where are they from? How do they know upwards of 30 guys at different tables? Did they all go to high school together? We had so many questions and our attention turned from the Packer game, to figuring out just who these people were. That was our new source of entertainment for the night.

As our stalking continued, and just to be clear it was definitely so obvious but you know what who cares, my friends and I also noticed another huge indicator in the age difference between these girls and us, besides the differences in attire. As I am watching super cool corduroy girl take a sip of her Red Bull Vodka, she reached into her pocket and took out what to me, looked like a black flash drive. *Disclaimer* she was not getting ready to plug that into her MacBook and edit a video. Silly.

Turns out, she was “Juuling”. Yep, that’s right, “Juuling”. This electronic cigarette hits you with straight nicotine (probably not but I’ve heard the buzz feels like it) and is all the rage with the youngin’s these days. I first heard about this new fad a month ago and I was shocked at the number of 18 year-old, fresh out of high school kids had them. When I was in high school (Not that it was even that long ago, literally 4 years…) we thought we were so cool because we bought hookah pens that literally had nothing in them besides flavored vaporized air for senior year prom because we just turned 18.

We shook our heads in disbelief and concluded that the biggest indicator of age at a bar at Mizzou is whether or not you are in the corner Juuling and wearing mega hoop earrings. Safe to say, I can’t wait to graduate.

Tonights inspiration courtesy of quite possibly the best wine I have ever had. No, not because it was aged in bourbon barrels for 45 days (I’ll be honest, I was skeptical of this) but rather the label. Don’t let the creepy hands fool you, this wine is special. My whole life my dad has called me “Sparkplug” and he was the one who found this bottle when he came to visit last weekend. Obviously we had to buy it.

Thirty, Flirty and Thriving!

Nov. 11, 2017

This post is in honor of a true piece of cinematic genius and one of my favorite movies of all time: 13 Going on 30.

To give you the IMDB recap: “A girl makes a wish on her thirteenth birthday, and wakes up the next day as a thirty-year-old woman.” If you haven’t seen the movie, the concept might seem a little strange. But what I want to focus on are the motivations behind the wish. In classic RomCom fashion, a girl on the cusp of becoming a young woman is struggling with cool girls and crushes all while trying to pull off wearing her first bra. She is determined that life would be so much better if she was just “thirty, flirty and thriving” like all women she sees in the fashion magazines she worships. When this wish comes true, she skips ahead 17 years and has to navigate through her own life that she does not recognize. While this makes for a comical movie, I think that the message deserves attention, particularly for young women like myself.

This weekend, my roommate and I had many conversations about boys (no, not men- BOYS), jobs and how we firmly believe our twenties will not be the best decade of our lives. We will spend these years working hard in our respective fields and focusing on moving up the professional ladder. I plan on living a rather nomadic existence during my twenties and the only serious relationship in my life will be with my pug, Hamilton. I don’t have him yet but I know I will and he is going to be the CUTEST thing you’ve ever seen. *For reference:*

Photo curtsey of Phoebe P. the Pug. (@phoebepthepug on Insta) Yes, I will so be that dog mom who creates an Instagram account for Hamilton when I get him- I expect you all to follow.

According to researchers- and I am not one to dispute research- the average male doesn’t fully mature until they are 43 years-old. That is ELEVEN years after the average female (for those of you out there who are also sh*t at math, women mature at the average age of 32). This is obviously infuriating for multiple reasons, but on Saturday night my roommate and I were focused on one aspect of this dilemma. At this point in our lives, we are only surrounded by 18 to (at the most) 22 year-old men, so basically their maturity levels are still in the single digits. My mom always said, “Honey, take the age of the boy and subtract 5 and that is how emotionally mature they really are,” Momma Stoker. Apparently, she was being generous. Basically, we can’t win. Our entire college bubble is comprised of these immature, single-minded creatures. Okay, that was a bit harsh. All I’m saying is that I have come to accept the fact that my twenties will not be the decade of love for me. Instead, it will be the years for self-discovery, travel and empowerment. And then maybe, when I am 30, I’ll decide it’s time to give someone a chance and I will find myself a nice, 43 year-old fully mature man to do life with.

Back to my main point, like Jennifer Gardner realized in the movie, it’s good to look ahead and be excited about what your future will look like, but don’t make that cause you to miss what is happening now. Or more importantly, what will happen in the next few years to come. It is okay to want to be thirty, flirty and thriving but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be just as excited to be twenty, single and broke. Embrace your life and circumstances and everything else (particularly boys) will catch up on their own time.

“We were on a break!”

Nov. 18, 2017

To quote everyone’s favorite Friends character and to perfectly sum up my feelings completely about this quote-on-quote “Thanksgiving Break” Mizzou students are currently on; I am also calling bs on the double standard that is “a break” in college. While this isn’t within the same context as Rachel getting mad at Ross for sleeping with that random Chloe chick even though the two were technically on a break but both had different interpretations about whether or not they were officially broken up… wait sorry I’m getting off topic. The point is: I share Ross’ frustrations, however mine are rooted in the fact that even though I am suppose to be on a week long break from classes, I am still living in a state of crippling fear of failure from school. And you know what? That just aint right.

Every time I sit down to start to work on one thing, my mind wonders and I realize three other things I need as well. And so, my to-do list and stress level grows. From an outsider’s perspective, one might be able to say this is karma coming back around to get me because up until this point in the semester, I’ve had it pretty good. Only one of my classes has actually tests and for the most part, I have been able to pull off completely my responsibilities for other classes with exercise just the right amount of effort and without having to give up on any fun. To that outside, 3rd party objector I would say, you are absolutely right. I have had a rather easy semester and up until this point I felt completely in control of my academic life (the rest of it, not so much. That’s always been up in the air). Any who, that feeling of bliss has passed- Gone are the days of having time to watch Game of Thrones and read a book for fun.

Now, these last three weeks of the semester will be filled with Spanish, some more Spanish and when I’m done with that, a little more Spanish! And when I need break from Español, I’ll do the 10 other things on my running to-do list. It’s a good thing I only have one more semester after this, I’m too old for this, this aging senior is exhausted.

I am an Honor Roll Student, Thanks for Asking.

Nov. 25, 2017

It’s that time of year again! Time to play my favorite game at family holidays: The Thanksgiving Clapback.

“Did you find a husband at Vanderbilt?”

“Ahhh, no?”

“That’s where you need to be looking- at those rich schools!”

“I’ll make enough money to support myself, thanks tho!” I said with my award-winning smile. *Although this might not be technically true, I couldn’t admit that. All I know if I will figure it out for myself, thank you very much.*

And as my cousin, who I love dearly but is seriously stuck in the 1950’s, was talking about her job as a Certified Nursing Assistant at a local hospital, she mentioned that she has to continually report a patient for inappropriate behavior. To that, my other cousin who shall remain nameless responded with “But was it like funny inappropriate or I guess actually inappropriate?” UMMMM?! My cousin then began defending herself saying things like “No it’s actually really inappropriate if it was funny I wouldn’t care!”. But don’t you worry, I swopped right in.

“Why should it matter if it was “funny” or not? She was doing her job and he was taking advantage of that. That is inappropriate in any context and not something she should have to worry about every time she goes in to check- up in this patient. If it was a male CNA he would have never had done that and if a female patient had done that to a male CNA, you know that wouldn’t have gone over well.” Needless to say it got awkwardly silent in that living room for a few minutes. Thankfully we had the Mizzou game and Drew Lock threw a beautiful touchdown to distract my family members.

OK– I’m usually not one to choose anything cat related but even I can’t resist the appeal of Grumpy Cat. So cute, yet so mean. I love it.

Why isn’t the first question my family asks me about my schoolwork or what I want to do come May? For the past three and a half years, it has always been about my relationship status.

It’s frustrating to feel like the only one in the room who seems to care about the way women are talked about and perceived, especially when the rest of the company is your family. I wish I had some magic spell to share that suddenly changed the way friends and relatives have these kind of conversations with me, but a las, I do not.

That being said, until said magic spell is invented (or until people decide to join the rest of us in the 21st century) if you need, I’ll be laying on the couch pretending to nap or refilling my glass with the complimentary wine.

Un-paid internships should be illegal.

Dec. 1, 2017

I’m going to say what every young adult is thinking while figuring out future plans: Stop this un-paid internship nonsense. It’s ridiculous.

I don’t know what 20 some-year-old could afford to put in 15-20 hours of work a week for no pay but I certainly cannot. Back at the end of October, I registered for classes for my senior year spring semester and promptly after my brief anxiety-attack that my time in college is almost over; I realized I have a very free schedule. This flexibility got me thinking… maybe I could try to get an part-time position at a local agency/company during the three days a week I don’t have class to gain more experience?!

Moral of the story:Don’t be responsible. It never works out.

I had three interviews last week and every single one went extremely well. I vibed with the interviewer, talked about a lot about myself and had a very positive impression of the company and its workers. And then the kicker came. Every single one ended the same way… “So just so you know, this is an unpaid position.” *insert annoyed emoji here*.

This might sound entitled but I believe at this point in my academic and professional career, I have had enough experience within my field to receive compensation for my work. I also firmly believe it is unrealistic to assume a college student could afford to invest so much of their valuable free time at a job that won’t pay them when many students are completely financially independent. I feel this burden and I get a little help from my parents, I can’t imagine how stressful it must be for students who can’t count on some of their living expenses to be covered by parents or guardians.

As my dear friend Shannon pointe out, what makes us even more annoyed is the fact that these positions I’ve interviewed for are not anything spectacular! Like, it’s not like I am trying to work at The New York Times or Good Morning America. If they offered me an un-paid internship I would be on the next plane flying into JFK. These jobs are in Columbia, Missouri. Check yo self.

I’ve accepted that this might be a sign that I just need to stick with what I know and get another job serving drinks and food with a smile. They say once you are a waitress, you can never stop because that’s where the money is- I am afraid that might be true. So happy I spent $40,000+ on higher education.